Play On
by QuietLittleVoices
Summary: Michael is trying to find his younger brother, famed musician Castiel, a wife. Little does he know, Castiel already has someone. "If music be the food of love, play on,/Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,/The appetite may sicken, and so die." (Twelfth Night, Shakespeare, 1.1.1-3) ((Musician!Cas, 1800s AU))


The faces and names had begun to blur to Castiel, as he shook hands with what he thought was the twentieth woman of the day but could have just as easily been the fiftieth or the hundredth. Not many of them had made an impression on him, because he had already been impressed long ago. Not that anyone other than the object of his affections could or did know.

After a few minutes of polite, while disinterested, conversation with the woman, Castiel was pulled away by his older brother Michael.

"You're the play a song for the guests, remember?" the older Milton prompted.

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes and took his place at the grand piano in front of the room of young women and their families. He didn't know why he had to do this; he knew that he wasn't going to choose any of them as his wife. Michael knew this as well, though he wasn't privy as to why.

As Castiel played, he looked around the ballroom and tried to spot a familiar servant. When he caught the attention of those green eyes, he smiled bright, and the smile was returned to him, though with more discretion. Castiel had an excuse to be smiling; Dean, however, did not.

Castiel finished the song and stood to receive applause. His eyes didn't leave Dean's who, standing at the back of the room, clapped harder than the rest.

He stayed on stage for a few minutes before walking off, despite the pleas for another song. Not wanting to prolong the awful day, he escaped to his room and stripped off his outer layers, waiting for Dean. He knew it would be another hour before the server could free himself from his duties, so he prepared himself to wait, settling in with a good book.

Castiel lost track of time waiting and was well immersed in his book when there was a tentative knock at his door.

"Come in," he called distractedly.

The door creaked open and Dean peaked inside, then quickly followed with the rest of his body, shutting the door firmly behind him. Neither of them said anything while Dean toed off his shoes and stripped to the same level of undress as his companion before jumping and landing on the large bed, folding his fingers over his chest.

"Are you going to read that book all night or are you going to kiss me?" Dean asked, looking up at his lover with inquisitive eyes.

Castile hummed noncommittally. "It's a rather good book," he considered.

Dean rolled over and started to play with the button on Castiel's pants. "You've read it seven times; I should hope it is," he grumbled.

"Thank you for understanding," Castiel responded, fighting a smile.

He dropped one hand and started to run it through Dean's short hair. Dean took this as encouragement and tugged Castiel's dress pants down his thighs and over his knees, shimmying them off the man's legs and then throwing them off the bed. He didn't pay much attention to where they fell, turning his focus back up the bed. When Dean saw that Castiel had put his book down and was watching him intently, he slipped off the bed and took off his own pants. He started unbuttoning his shirt but Castiel reached over and grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the top of the bed.

"No," he said. "Let me do it."

Dean smiled and hopped up on the bed, straddling Castiel's hips as best as he could in the limited space. As soon as he was there, Castiel got to work unbuttoning his shirt and Dean reached around to take off Castiel's. Once they were both naked, Dean took a moment to admire the musician's lithe body before leaning in and capturing his lips.

"I missed you today," Dean murmured, grabbing at Castiel's hip with one hand.

"And I, you. I'd rather it was you than any of those women."

Dean laughed. "As do I. It's torture, watching you with them."

"It's torture talking to them."

"Doesn't look like it."

Castiel pulled back and looked Dean in the eyes. "Do you really think I could _ever_ chose one of them over you, Dean? I love you. I've loved you since we were children."

Dean smiled sadly. "I know that, and you know that, but… sometimes it's hard." He sighed and tipped forwards, resting their foreheads together. "I love you, too," he breathed.

Castiel surged up and pressed a hard kiss against Dean's mouth. "I love you," he repeated. "You and only you. Always."

They were too enraptured with one another to notice a third person joining them in the room until it was too late.

"This is why you show such distaste with all the women?" asked Michael's voice from the door way.

Dean's head whipped around and he quickly climbed off Castiel, grabbing a pillow in a vain attempt to cover himself. Castiel, however, did nothing.

"Yes, it is, actually," Castiel informed him, standing up. He grabbed a discarded pair of pants and pulled them on. They were slightly too large on him, because he'd chosen Dean's pair instead of his own, but he didn't mind. "I could never bear to marry someone who isn't him, Michael. It's time enough you knew that so you could stop with these parties. None of those women will be enough for me, because Dean is all I need."

"How long has… _this_ been going on?" Michael asked, gesturing between his brother and the servant.

Castiel looked back at Dean. "Five years?" he asked.

Dean couldn't help the smile that fell on his face. "Seven, actually."

When Castiel looked back at his brother he was smiling, small and genuine. "You see? It's him, for me. And if I can't marry him, then I won't be marrying at all. And that will be fine so long as I can keep him by my side."

Michael's jaw twitched. "There's really nothing that I can say or do to change this, is there?" he asked, speaking mostly to himself. He sighed. "I can stop the parties trying to find you a wife, but you can't let this… relationship become public, understood? Not while you're under my care."

Castiel nodded gravely. "I understand, brother."

Michael nodded stiffly and then turned and walked away, shutting the door loudly behind him.

* * *

Three years later, Castiel woke up to the sunlight coming in through lace curtains and dancing across the bare skin of his lovers' chest. He reached over and threaded their fingers together, smiling softly as he watched Dean sleep.

"I love you," Castiel whispered in the morning chill.

Dean smiled in his sleep.


End file.
